Monks of the Satori & Hongan Order

A Quick Primer on Religion in Yamato

It should be noted that Yamato is a land of a single religion and pantheon, with two orthodoxies overseeing the means of worship and belief. Not unlike the difference between Catholic and Protestants in our world, though with a less violent and turbulent relationship.

Originally, the people of Yamato followed the single orthodoxy of Kodo or “The Ancient Way.” It has also come to be known as Daido “The Great Way” and Teido “The Imperial Way”, due to the primacy of the Emperor and Imperial family in religious matters.

As the Imperial family and the nobility were descended of the highest and most powerful heavenly kami (as opposed to the rank and file commoners who came from lesser kami and kami of the Earthly Realm), they held special power and influence over the methods and practice of the early religion of Yamato.

Gifted with divine mandate by Amaterasu herself, the reigning Emperor, and by extension, the Imperial family, held and continue to hold important ceremonial, religious, and cultural significance. Even as the powers of the ruling monarchs waxes and wanes with the ages and the seasons (some Emperor’s more powerful than others), the daily duties of the Emperor always include several important and secret religious practices and traditions to appease the kami and keep the realm safe from turmoil.

Traditional Kodo orthodoxy enshrines the souls of the kami in sacred objects or places, in order to worship them. Offers of food, money, and luxurious gifts such a silks, items, or even horses or livestock are made to appease the kami and keep them satisfied. As kami are the very forces of nature themselves, it is important to ensure they are pleased with the people of Yamato, lest suffering ensue for all.

Without getting needlessly complicated, many greater and lesser kami have one main soul, and four sub-souls. These sub-souls (known as mitama) can often take on lives of their own, and manifest as entirely different aspects of the kami. Some kami have been known to encounter their mitama and not even recognize them as a part of themselves.

Different kami can have their mitama enshrined all in a single place as a group of kami, or in several different shrines across the land. When a new shrine is opened to an existing kami, a special ceremony is undertaken to enshrine a portion of the kami’s soul within the new shrine. This does not diminish the original enshrined soul, and is more akin to the lighting of a candle with another candle.

Shrines are located across Yamato in various sacred or culturally significant places. They are ranked by importance, sized, and of course, by the amount of Imperial or noble patronage they received. Many of the highest ranked shrines are lead by a High Priestess, often of the Imperial family. The eldest daughter of the Emperor or Empress is always given to the Ise Grand Shrine to become the High Priestess in service to Amaterasu for a period of time (typically, service is about 4 years, but can be extended to 8 in times of crisis, but never more).

Priestesses and Priests oversee the day to day running of the shrine, lead worship services, communicate with the kami (often by allowing the kami to posses them for a time to be able to speak and act through them), and ensure the general upkeep of the shrine is maintained. They will also be responsible for recruiting and training new acolytes, and sending out the younger members of the clergy to gather alms for the poor, or donations for the upkeep.

It is known that humans are the Children of the Kami, and are themselves but kami in diminished form. Upon death, all humans become a kami of some kind, although most are mundane ancestral spirits of a specific location or function. They do not wield incredible power with almighty domains such as the Heavenly Kami, or the Kotoamatsukami, nor do they become the centres of new cults of worship.

However, it is believed that especially mighty and great people in life can ascend to the Heavenly Plain and take their place among the greatest kami. Most of those who ascend are often of the nobility, lead governments, or are members of the Imperial family (who are always guaranteed to ascend).

It was because of this seeming imbalance, that only the wealthy and powerful could become mighty kami, that the Kensho orthodoxy began to grow popular among the common folk.

In the Common Year 649 (649 years after the founding of modern Yamato under the first Emperor), or the 8th Year of the Tenpo Era (the 8th year of the reign of Emperor Tenpo), a young woman began to gather a following with her preaching. She had been the daughter of a poor family who had been given to a shrine as an infant rather than killed, because her family could not afford to feed or keep her.

As she grew, she began to feel the injustice of the Kodo orthodoxy, and left the shrine in her late teens when she had originally been sent forth to gather donations. Instead of gathering donations, she preached her ideas to the common folk, travelling from small town to small town to spread her message

Her original name is not recorded, by her own request, only her dharma name, which soon became the name she was worshipped as when she died and ascended as a kami. She became Kannon, the Lady of Mercy.

The young girl preached that all humans are Children of the Kami. Their lineage and descent from great or lesser kami should not affect how they are incarnated in the next life. Ascending to the Heavenly Plain should be no harder for a farmer than for the Emperor. Her words struck true to many folks, and so her following grew among the peasants of the far flung provinces of Yamato, especially in Izumo, where many of the Warrior Clans in service to the Emperor and Tai-Shogun lived.

At first, her words were seen as heresy by the Imperial government, and the blasphemy was upsetting the social order. Shrines suffered as attendance dwindled, and her teachings threatened to usurp the primacy of Imperial rule. The Emperor Go-Tenpo, nephew of the previous Tenpo, attempted to crack down on the growing threat to his rule, leading to violent peasant revolt against Imperial authority.

The revolt lead to famine, as farmers hoarded the food in their fields and withheld their tithes to the Imperial tax collectors, or burned their crops and slaughtered livestock before they could be seized by Imperial forces and governors.

It did not help that at this point that many scions of the Warrior Clans, fourth, fifth, or sixth sons who had no chance of inheriting or earning glory, had signed on for a new branch of this young woman’s religion, known as the Hogan Order. This order was dedicated to the constant training of an armed group of warrior monks, whose task was to help the Kamigakari uphold the Primal Vow to defend Yamato from the plight of wicked demons and yokai that sought to wipe out humanity in the name of their Dark Mother.

The other order, it should be noted, was the Satori Order, an order dedicated to peacefulness and prayer. They did no harm to others, or engage in combat. They sought pursuits of knowledge and prayer, and lived austere, and often secluded lifestyles in pursuit of enlightenment for themselves and others.

These warriors, well trained, with a classical upbringing in literature and warfare, could command armies in ways that countered Imperial forces sent to crack down on their uprising, and the fighting became bloody and costly for both sides.

In the end, the young lady put an end to the fighting by requesting her forces lay down their arms, and walking from the wilds of Izumo to the Capital to meet with the Emperor himself. Despite being warned of the potential of a trap, or that she could be captured and killed, the woman went all the same.

In fact, she was not captured, but had managed to impress the Emperor with her kindness and her wisdom. What was said between the two sides is unknown to this day, for it was not recorded except for in the deepest records of the Imperial household, but in the end, it led to a truce between the Old Ways and the New.

The woman decreed that she had not sought to upend Imperial power or the old ways, but offer an alternative path for the peasants and the downtrodden. Through fervent prayer, by living life according to several stringent precepts, and avoiding negative actions in favour of positive actions, could one accumulate enough positive karma to ascend after death, and become a kami in the Heavenly Realm.

Now life was messy, and no one was perfect, and so it was unlikely one could achieve divinity on their first go around, and so she preached that those who failed on their first try would be sent through a cycle of rebirth. If they lived a good life, they would be reborn in a higher walk of life (or degraded if they were wicked), and be allowed another chance. A human would be given as many chances as it took to achieve enlightenment and ascend.

Some especially good people who ascended could put off their rebirth as a great kami, and instead incarnate within the Spirit Realm to pray and intercede on behalf of those still alive, trying to ascend themselves. This intercession could speed up the process of rebirth and enlightenment.

For example, a commoner given to a good life of prayer and good karma, could be reborn as a court noble in the next life, and be afforded more chances to ascend by being given more means and avenues to do good by the religion. Conversely, a wicked person could be reborn as an animal, or even as a restless spirit for a time, after years of paying for their sins in the afterlife, before being reborn as a human again and given another chance to ascend.

It’s said the Emperor was so touched by her teachings, that he agreed to sponsor, in perpetuity, one single temple of her choosing, and would instruct her descendants to do the same. However, there would be limits–only two temples would be allowed within the Capital, and none would be allowed within the Inner Palace, or the Outer Palace.

It is more likely, however, that the growing popularity of Kensho had grown so out of hand, that he realized when even he could not fight the tide anymore. At this point, most of his Warrior Clans had converted, and they formed his armies that enforced his laws and edicts. Some court nobles had secretly converted with their entire families, and so the new religion had pierced the Eight-Fold Palace to it’s core.

Worst of all, many of the peasants and farmers had converted, and held fast to their beliefs, and the Empire could not afford continued unrest and famine.

So the Emperor acquiesced to allowing this new religion to flourish along side the Old Ways. The Emperor did agree to fund a single temple in perpetuity, and his descendants as well. This temple was located on the summit of Mount Hoei, a holy mountain in the Kodo orthodoxy.

This single temple eventually grew under Imperial patronage, and now spans most of the mountain. It is was one of the first places in Yamato where the Old Ways and the New would coexist. For a network of shrines AND temples exist atop the mountain, all bent towards praying for the prosperity of the monarch and the Imperial family.

Priestesses and Priests are revered as living saints who communicate with the gods above, and are praised and worshipped among followers of Kensho. Some have been known to have been carried into battle atop portable shrines by the Warrior Monks as representations of the kami of both shrine and temple.

Surprisingly, the rise of Kensho did not lead to the end of Kodo, but in fact, allowed both to flourish. Many still patronize and visit shrines, and at the same time, visit temples and pray there. They practice Kodo as a guide for how to live their life in harmony with nature and natural forces, to ensure the kami are happy, and ensure that those among them who became kami are not forgotten and do not forget them. However, these same folk practice Kensho in preparation for their death. For their rebirth, or their ascension, so they too can become great kami.

EXCERPT from:
Akatsuki monogatari (Tale of the Dawn)

SCROLL NINE

Tenchi-dera, Holiest Temple of Satori Order of Monks
Suiteki Islands
23^rd Day of the 7^th Month
Korakuen 22
Shogunal Year 437
Common Year 1517

It had been almost two full months since Ise and Izumo had announced the Ise-Izumo Pact of Unity, and all any subject of any realm in the land could talk about was that pact, the impending marriage of the Shogun’s heir to the Second Princess, and the fact that for the first time in four-hundred and thirty-seven years, Yamato would be at peace. True, lasting peace.

Prayers had been said and sutras read at every temple and shrine in the line. From the Eight Shrines and Twelve Temples* to the humblest sites of pilgrimage in the land.

The Emperor himself had commissioned the monks of the Holy Mount Hoei to recite non-stop prayers and benedictions since the day the treaty had been announced, praying for the continued health of the Emperor, the Shogun, the soon-to-be-wed couple, and continued friendship between both nations for myriad years to come.

This act had been the most important news at the Imperial Court. The Holy Mount Hoei complex was a network of eighty-three temples that spider-webbed up and down the mountain. The political power wielded by the monks there, the proximity to the capital, and its importance as a holy place for the kami since ancient times had earned it the significance of being the only Kensho** temple to have the exclusive patronage of the Imperial family.

The Kodo* Grand Shrines had also been commissioned for prayers and other ancient esoteric ceremonies by the Emperor, but that had been expected. The Kodo Shrines across Yamato, even in enemy nations, were under the jurisdiction of the monarch.

In a month’s time, the leadership of the five polities of Yamato would gather at the Great Temple at Tenchi-dera to witness the Empire and the Shogunate seal the pact forevermore, and afterwards, they would all attend the wedding of the scions of the two most powerful dynasties under the sun.

Then it would all be over. No more war. No more violence. No more families being wiped out for being in the wrong place in the wrong time. No more villages put to the torch. No more thieves being boiled alive for “disrupting the war effort” for just trying to feed their families. All of it would end.

Yamato would be unrecognizable for it. For four centuries, Yamato had restructured itself to survive off war. War, ironically, was the only thing keep most of the different nations afloat.

The Empire and the Shogunate warred with each other in an endless cycle, sure, but they couldn’t fight their wars without shinobi to assassinate, or sabotage, or spy. The unexpected and fortuitous death of daimyo Kurogawa Tatsuyori had been an instrumental part of the Empire’s victory at Tedorigawa early in the age of war. Likewise, without the shinobi to sabotage the walls and gates of Oyodo Castle, the Shogunate would not have been able to break the siege and take the province without significantly higher losses.

The Battle of Mogamigahara would have been a decisive loss for the Empire if they had not recruited Warrior Monks and Warrior Nuns to their cause. The same could be said about the Shogunate at the Battle of Shishigahara. The addition of manpower came at a cost, but numbers were just as important as strategy in a battle. Many famed Warrior Monks had risen in the ranks of society to become trusted vassals of the Emperor, or the Shogun. Daimyo Sadamura Noren was a famed Warrior Monk who had been given the province of Ugo for his service, and the rights to establish a new and lavish temple complex, patronized directly by the Shogun. His descendants still ruled the province—and it’s many temples—to this day, and each of them were just as renowned as Warrior Monks and Nuns as their founder.

Even the crime families of Niji had come to profit greatly from the war. They had been forced to put aside their petty vendettas and conflicts and unite for a better future. The disparate organizations had become the Niji Consortium, under a group of power widows left behind when their families had been wiped out in gang wars.

Since their unification, the Consortium had utilized their knowledge of the underworld to profit from the war in a less direct way. Brothels were set up across Yamato, but especially close to the borders of Ise and Izumo, where the battlefields were always located. Soldiers would flock to their pleasure villas. In time, the villas became villages, and villages became pleasure towns. Entire settlements built around illicit activities such as prostitution and gambling.

This allowed the Consortium to monopolize such activities across the land by appealing directly to the soldiers. Eventually, their renowned grew, and red lantern districts, which had nearly disappeared in most cities of the land, suddenly boomed.

Of course, that wasn’t the only business that the Consortium busied themselves with. Extortion, gambling, the selling of secrets that even the shinobi couldn’t get, and loansharking were among some of their most profitable ventures.

It seemed that the deeper Yamato plunged itself into war and conflict, the less everyone wanted peace. Peace didn’t give you power or control. Peace did not let you wipe your enemies out to ensure your own survival. Peace didn’t pay.

But while the people at the top lived off the fat of two warring nations, it was the people at the bottom who suffered. The people who didn’t fight or pick a side. Who didn’t sabotage or assassinate. They didn’t sell secrets or their bodies. Most often these things were taken from them, and often by force by the armies marching across their fields and disrupting their livelihoods.

Families were torn apart…all for what? Power? Profit? Tradition? Pride?

These are not the thoughts a monk should have when trying to medidate, Kukai thought to himself. Try as he might, he could never fully purge his mind of all thoughts when meditating. The old monks taught that thoughts should be as a monkey, jumping from tree to tree, never staying on one thought too long. But Kukai’s thoughts sat in a single tree, gorging themselves on fruit like a fat old monkey at a hot spring.

Kukai’s mind was too full. To weighed down by these thoughts. With just a few words, the entire realm had been turned upside down. Nothing had been normal since the announcement of the peace treaty and the marriage, not even amongst the monks who strived to lived so detached from the physical world.

Even the elders of the temple gossiped behind pillars and in darkened hallways when they thought the novices weren’t listening.

Change was coming to Yamato, for the first time in four hundred years. For better or for worse.

No. Focus. I need to focus. He cleared his head again, emptying every thought like pouring water from a vessel.

Kukai inhaled, exhaled.

He kept his breathing measured. Calm. Relaxed.

And then the visions started. His mind drifted back to war. Back to his thoughts.

Back to the fire…

Run Ichiro! Take your brother and go! Protect him!

Screaming. Burning. He could taste the smoke. Blood? His blood. He’d cut his lip somehow. Maybe fleeing from the soldiers?

No. One of them had hit him in the mouth. Hard. Tears still stung his eyes, pooled on his cheeks.

GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE!

His sister screamed from the shed around the back room. Her shrieks were ear-splitting and hysterical. It was a sound that would haunt the boy for the rest of his life

But Ichiro could do nothing but stare dumbly as his mother shoved his younger brother into his arms and marched him out the back of their small home.

Go! Run! Run! Protect your brother, and ru—!

His mother’s voice died away as men threw themselves at his mother. They’d come running in from where they’d left his sister. Men and women were screaming from all across the town. The smell of smoke and burning flesh was stronger out here. It made the boy want to retch.

His saw his mother lunge at one of her attackers with the old knife she’d used for cooking. She got one of them in the throat. He gurgled, gasped, and fell to the ground dead. His had mother looked the dying in the eyes and watched the flame of his soul extinguish with a righteous fury.

But it did not save her. Soon she was set upon by more soldiers, and she screamed, just as his sister had screamed, the swords falling upon her in waves. Even after she had fallen silent, presumably dead, the attackers kept swinging.

Only then did Ichiro start running. The horrific screams of his own mother burned into his memory at that moment, along with the warm feeling of the slick wet grass—painted red by the blood of his friends and neighbours.

Faster. Faster. Ichiro ran as fast as his legs allowed. They burned. His lungs burned. Like his childhood home was now burning.

His infant brother was bouncing in his arms. Not crying—no, Jiro did not cry. He hadn’t even come into the world crying. He’d been so silent the midwife thought he’d been possessed by a spirit. She’d asked his mother if she wanted to send him back.

But his mother wouldn’t hear of it. He was the last child she’d have, ever since her husband—Ichiro’s father—had died from the famine the year before.

Ichiro couldn’t believe no one had seen or stopped him. But he figured the soldiers had their sick priorities to deal with first.

The tears were back now. Whether because his lungs were on fire, or because he mourned the loss of everything and everyone he had ever known, Ichiro wasn’t sure.

Don’t worry, Jiro. The boy said to his infant brother. Mom said to protect you. I’ll protect you. They’ll never get us.

Ichiro ran. He kept running. He ran until he collapsed, somewhere deep in the forest, where he’d never seen before. The farthest he’d ever been from home, and the closest he’d ever get to his home again.

He wished, as he grew older, that he could say he went back, and found the bodies of his loved ones. That he went back and mourned them. Buried them or burned their bodies. Did something other than leave them to rot in the sun, eaten by foxes or tanuki, or the maggots of the earth.

But Ichiro hadn’t done that.

He’d been a child, and he’d been scared, and he had his younger brother to think about. So, he never went back for his mother, or his sister, or any of them. He never thought of them again. He never asked about the village. He never even went back to see if anyone had rebuilt. Not that Ichiro was ever certain he could even pick out his village on a map if someone asked him nowadays.

Ichiro travelled as far as his legs would carry him, each step taking him farther and farther way from the carnage and his former home. He ran until he came to a road, and collapsed there, exhausted, cradling his infant brother in his arms. It was there at Ichiro lay, until he was found by a group of travelling monks, who took the quiet and scared boy and his baby brother back to their temple and raised them as monks.

For all that time, for two decades, Ichiro had put the memories, and the pain, and put it into a box in his soul, and only ever took it out again when he needed to feel something in his life. In the depths of the darkness nights, alone and missing his family, he’d cry himself to sleep with these memories as his blanket. But come morning, they’d be back in the box, and Ichiro disappeared, giving way once more to Kukai.

“Who woulda ever thought we’d live to see these times, eh, brother?”

A massive hand on his shoulder shook Kukai from his failed meditation. He opened his eyes, ashamed to find he’d been crying. At least his brother would pretend not to notice.

“It’s been too long, brother”

Protect him. His mother had said.

Benkei threw back his head and laughed. “Ya don’t gotta be so formal, Ichiro. We’re kin!”

His brother had never stopped using their given names, even after they’d been given their dharma names. He’d also picked up their provincial accent from how Kukai used to speak and hadn’t lost that either.

“How have you been, Benkei?”

Benkei scoffed. “We’re kin, Ichiro. Ya don’t gotta keep callin’ me by my dharma name. That’s only for strangers.”

Kukai laughed. “You always were a terrible monk.”

Rather than take that as an insult, Benkei through back his head and crowed with laughter. “That’s why I left the order, ain’t it?”

“That and they couldn’t afford to feed you anymore,” joked Kukai.

Benkei, Jiro as he had been known then, had not been his little brother for long. As he grew, he grew into a mountain of a man, standing just over six and a half shaku in height once he stopped growing. Six shaku, seven sun, and nine bu, to be exact.*

Benkei laughed again. “Eh. I’m a much better warrior monk anyway.”

His brother had never been cut out for the life of a peaceful, quiet monk. He grew up as a loud and boisterous youth. Always getting in fights—usually trying to defend other kids from the bullies among the temple youth. One of those other kids was usually Kukai himself.

Protect him.

But he’s protecting me, mother…

No matter how valiant or righteous the cause, it didn’t matter to the elders or the Abbot. Benkei had repeatedly broken the rules prohibiting violence or fighting. Something had to be done. But at the same time, they couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a child. Large for his age yes, but still a child. And a child with promise and a righteous soul, no doubt.

So, the decision was made, after much deliberation, to not expel him out into the world, but instead swap which order he was allied to. If Jiro couldn’t make it as a Satori monk, then perhaps his personality would be better suited to the life of a warrior monk of the Hogan Order.

As a warrior monk, his size would be a boon. His righteous attitude would be an asset in the defence of the common folk, or on the field of battle. He could earn himself much glory, and would no doubt become legendary in his own time.

So, the Abbot sent his brother away to the far flung reaches of Yamato, to the central temple fortress of the Hongan Order in Ezochiyama, atop the mountain that gave the landmass its name.

Protect him.

But I can’t if he’s so far away…

They spent the rest of their lives from that time on separated from one another for most of the year. How Jiro, now Benkei, had cried when they told him he’d be sent off to live on a frozen mountain in the desolate wastes of the northern island. All he wanted was his brother—why couldn’t Ichiro come with him?

Kukai couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye. He didn’t say a word. He simply hugged his brother, fighting back the tears, refusing to allow himself to feel. Then he stood there like a smoked fish, waiting dumbly for his brother to depart.

They didn’t see each other at all for a few years, but then, as Benkei grew older, he and members of his order started to come around and visit during major festivals, and the New Year celebrations. Each time, Benkei would return happier and happier, telling tales of his meandering travels and training across Yamato. The things he saw, the people he’d met. How much stronger he’d become.

Eventually, Benkei’s visits became less predictable. He would visit more often, but never the same days each year. He would come and go with the wind, and his stays ranged from hours to even a few weeks.

As they grew up, Benkei slowly became a renowned warrior monk. There had been no war in Yamato for him to distinguish himself, but during the lull in hostilities, the number of travelling warriors and swordsmen grew as people sought to make names for themselves in other ways. Single combat duels became more popular, and Benkei had become especially skilled in such tests of strength.

Every time he and Kukai would meet up, the number of men he’d defeated grew. Eventually, Benkei began taking the weapons of his defeated foes, and adding them to his ever-growing collection. He would not take their lives, but if they could not beat him, he would take their livelihoods until they could challenge him again and earn it back.

They rarely did.

Protect him.

But I don’t think he needs me to anymore…

Benkei lifted Kukai off the ground and pulled him into a crushing bear hug. “I’ve missed ya, brother.”

Kukai could only helplessly accept the hug. “I’ve missed you too.”

“So! Before I go yakkin’ on about my life, why don’t ya tell me all about how yer life’s been at this fancy temple?” There wasn’t a hint of scorn or mockery in Benkei’s voice. He was too sincere for that. Benkei was a rarity in that everything he said he meant, and everything should be taken at face value. He truly meant that he thought the temple was fancy. He genuinely wanted to know about his “big” brother’s life and experiences.

“Not much has changed at the temple itself, but the Grand Abbot will be sending me out on the road soon. I’ll be tasked with travelling across Yamato, visiting small settlements without their own shrines or temples to perform services for the people there. Remote places off the beaten path…”

Just like our former home, Kukai wanted to say. The words were there, dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down again before he could.

Benkei’s face lit up with the news and he immediately began dancing about in excitement. “That’s a job worthy o’ praise! Congrats, brother!” The giant man picked his brother up and enveloped him with another crushing bear hug. This one threatened to shatter Kukai’s spine. “When do ya leave?”

“Next week, after the wedding and summit are over.” Kukai struggled out between heaving breaths.

Benkei took no notice of his brother’s discomfort, but did finally release his grasp. “Why don’t we set out together? I’m still out travelling until the winter. We can travel across Yamato together. We ain’t never done that before.”

Kukai’s insides twisted. “We’ll see. I don’t know if we’ll be travelling in the same provinces. But if we can make it happen, I would like to.”

“I can travel wherever I like. There ain’t no set path. Just gotta follow the roads and fight others in single combat to increase my reputation and collect more weapons. Drum up some donations for our temples in the process. Don’t know why I bother anymore, what with peace bein’ around the corner, but beats sittin’ about doin’ nothin’.”

“Then I suppose we’ll be travelling together. I don’t see why Abbot Kensei would object me travelling with a member of our sister order. Especially with the roads being as dangerous as they are these days.”

“Lotsa bandits out there. Most ain’t bad folk, just desperate. All of them victims in some way,” Benkei added. “Ronin lookin’ for their next meal. Poor people tryin’ ta feed their families. Refugees from the last war livin’ out in the sticks still. Lotsa folks suffered as much from the black rot outbreaks over the last few years too. Course there’s also that business near the borders…”

“What business?” Kukai asked.

“Ya don’t know?”

Kukai shook his head.

“I ain’t surprised. Most people I hear talkin’ think it’s all superstition and stories. Even those that knew the truth and saw it with their own eyes stopped talkin’ about it right quick,” Benkei explained.

“What happened, brother?”

“Rumours been goin’ around about attacks on the Shogunate. All along the border, towns and villages just being wiped off the map. Everyone killed. Not a body in sight. No lootin’, no burnin’. Everyone’s just…gone.”

Kukai scoffed. “Sounds like something out of a ghost story. I wouldn’t believe in such rumours if I were you, brother. Sounds like some kids made it all up and are having a laugh at everyone’s expense. Perhaps it’s just a prelude to war; the Empire testing its boundaries.”

Benkei’s brow furrowed. “If the Ise were attacking Izumo, there wouldn’t be the treaty or the weddin’.”

“Maybe Izumo doesn’t want an open war, and peace is a better option?” Kukai reasoned.

Benkei shook his head. “Izumo’s never let Ise step all over it before, why start now? If Izumo were so weak, Ise would just invade and take it all back. Somethin’s not right, I’m tellin’ ya, brother.”

Kukai was not convinced. “How can you be so sure, Benkei? How can commoners such as us possibly know what the illustrious lineages of Ise and Izumo do, or why.”

Benkei’s face was serious and grim. It was such a change from his normal, cheery disposition it scared Kukai slightly. “I was there, Ichiro. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Kukai had no response. He was too stunned.

Benkei took the liberty to continue. “The third attack was near where I was travellin’, so I went a bit out of the way to go look into it. Place felt wrong as soon as I entered the town. Felt cold; dark. The land didn’t feel right, Ichiro.”

“What do you mean, Benkei?”

“Dunno,” Benkei shrugged. “Don’t go words for it. Just know it ain’t right.”

“Did you speak with anyone?” Kukai asked.

“Went to the nearest temple, and then the nearest shrine. Both the Abbot of the temple, and the Priestess at the shrine refused to answer my questions beyond that it was not a religious matter, and though they gave me dinner and let me rest the night, they sent me on my way early the next mornin’.”

“You sound like you already had a conclusion in mind when you went to see them…” Kukai feared where this conversation was leading.

Benkei’s grim expression worsened. His response was whispered, and he constantly checked over his shoulder to ensure he and his brother were alone. “Brother…d’ya remember mother—”

Kukai’s chest seized. “Brother,” he warned. The subject was off limits, even between brothers.

Benkei grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “No, Ichiro. Yer gonna listen. D’ya remember how you told me when ya misbehaved, she’d tell ya stories to keep ya in line?”

“Yes…”

“D’ya remember what kind of stories?”

“Same stories every other parent tells. Stories about the yokai and demons that used to roam the land. Stories of the evil hordes of wicked creatures, under the command of the Empress of Yomi, who would rise every so often to scour the Children of the Kami off the face of Yamato. The Empress promised her husband she would do so, yet for how hard she tried, she’d never succeed. The kami had their champions, the Kamigakari, and those champions allowed them to uphold the Primal Vow. They’d banish the wicked creatures back into the endless void of Yomi, and dawn would return to Yamato once more.” Kukai thought for a moment and added. “She told me if I’d misbehaved I’d become a demon, and the Kamigakari would come find me and kill me for my wicked ways.”

Benkei did not respond, but his gaze was telling. His frown looked permanently etched in his face, like a carved stone statue. It did not take Kukai long to gather where Benkei was going.

“You’re not seriously suggesting that it was demons that wiped out those towns?”

“I do.”

“There hasn’t been a Night Parade in six hundred years, or any Kamigakari in half as long. The priests and abbots all agree that humanity has drifted too far away from their kami origins. We’re too mortal in this life, and this world has drifted far enough away from the Spirit Realm that we don’t have to fear incursions anymore. What spirits and yokai remain are benign or diminished. Only a few spirits remain with the power to Cross Over; like tanuki, or some of the tengu clans in the northern mountains.”

“They’re wrong.” Benkei was adamant.

“Do you have proof?”

“Nothin’ on me. But I went to the next town, after the next attack happened. The earth was pitch black in places. It wasn’t burned, or anythin’, just turned black. Like it was corrupted. Plant life across the whole town had rotted as if struck by a blight. The rice had gone rotten in the fields. D’ya think people whose whole lives rely upon the rice crop would let their entire fields go rotten like that, or not notice the start of a crop blight?”

“I don’t think it’s demons, Benkei.”

“I know what I saw,” Benkei pleaded earnestly.

“Did you report it to anyone?”

“I tried to report to the local magistrate. Told him to get a message to the Shogun.”

“And?”

“He had me thrown out of the post town and told me not to breathe a word of my insanity to anyone. That I was gettin’ involved in official government business, and if I stuck my nose in any further, he’d throw me in jail next time.”

“You probably sounded crazy, brother.”

“He didn’t laugh in my face or dismiss me, Ichiro. He tried ta keep me quiet. Ya don’t do that unless ya got somethin’ ta hide.”

Kukai shook his head. “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“No…I didn’t think they’d believe me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Benkei slammed the butt of his wooden staff against the ground to emphasize his point. “I ain’t wrong, Ichiro. I know it. I feel it.”

“Then go talk to the Grand Abbot, if you’re so sure.” Kukai’s tone was almost mocking, but Benkei didn’t seem to notice.

“I am,” he declared. “It’s why I’m here, Ichiro. I ain’t here for the weddin’ or no summit. I’m here to warn the Grand Abbot. He needs to listen—the Shogunate and the Empire need ta know, and they need ta be ready. I think the Shogunate knows something is comin’, but they won’t see the forest for the trees. Someone needs to make them listen. I don’t think it was an accident that the announcement was made so shortly after the last wave of attacks. I mean think about it, brother. Three month’s isn’t a lotta time ta plan a weddin’, especially between two of the most important families in Yamato.”

“You think the Shogunate knows demons are coming, and are covering it up?”

“I think they’re as lost and confused as everyone else. Maybe they think the Empire did it, or maybe they don’t know what ta think. But they’re in denial that anythin’ is wrong, and they’re coverin’ it up, and they’re trying to keep people distracted so nobody gets spooked, or starts asking too many questions.”

Kukai grit his teeth. He believed that Benkei believed something bad was coming, but Kukai didn’t believe that his brother was correct in his predictions. He just couldn’t see it. The facts weren’t adding up.

Or were they?

On the other hand, Benkei brought up some good points. In fact, they made too much sense when you put aside how absurd it all sounded.

But it couldn’t be more than coincidence…could it?

It had to be.

But Benkei was his brother. Benkei didn’t lie. And for how straight forward and earenest he was, Benkei wasn’t stupid. He was well read, and despite his provincial accent, he was incredibly well learn’d. He would no doubt have spent time researching the signs that foretold a demon, he was a Hongan Monk after all. It’s what they did. They trained to help the Kamigakari fight off the Night Parades. They fought to help uphold the Primal Vow.

Sure, they’d put the civil war in Yamato above their prime directive in recent times, but their core reason for existing hadn’t changed so much that they were blind to the coming of another incursion.

A fact leapt forward from the depths of Kukai’s memory. “But what about the annual wind divination ritual? Doesn’t the coming of the wind foretell a demonic incursion?”

“I’m beginning ta think that’s only superstition. D’ya know how many years the mystics predicted calamity and nothin’ happened? They ignore the coming of calamity now.”

“Are you saying, we can’t predict an incursion?”

“I’m sayin’ we’re payin’ attention ta the wrong signs. We’re lookin’ for big, obvious omens, but we’ve forgotten ta look for small ones. I went through the archives when I arrived last night. Even when Night Parades were frequent, divination was only right half the time, at best. Ain’t nobody ever talks about that though, do they? Demons ain’t rational, Ichiro, and they want ta kill as many of us as possible—all of us if they can. Why would they warn us?”

Kukai’s head spun. A thousand and a half years of history and mythos were suddenly shattered—and the records backed up Benkei’s theories. “But—”

“Ichiro,” Benkei’s tone was gentle, but his demeanour was anything but. “D’ya understand why I need ta tell someone, as soon as I can? D’ya get why I’m so scared?”

Kukai shook his head. He had lied. He had already begun to piece it together.

“We stopped lookin’ for the signs, and we’re now blind ta ‘em. We stopped looking for the Kamigakari, and so we stopped trainin’ ‘em. We said the Night Parades were over, and we had won. We lost an enemy, and instead turned our weapons on each other. Yamato is as divided as ever, we ain’t got none of our usual protective measures up, and we’ve been ravaged by war and black rot outbreaks.”

Kukai wanted to shove his head into the sand. He needed to ignore this. He couldn’t process the words—and he didn’t even want to hear them. “Benkei—”

“We’re weak, Ichiro. Even the Hongan Order—we’re training for war against humans. We’ve betrayed our vows. Ain’t none of us could go up against a demon and win. We’d be destroyed.”

Kukai was going to vomit. “Benkei, please…”

“No, Ichiro! We gotta stop ignorin’ the signs! We gotta stop pretendin’ we don’t see! That’s how Yamato came to be this way, and if we don’t smarten up soon, we’re all gonna die!”

Benkei reached forward and grabbed Kukai by the shoulders. His grip was as strong as ever. “The Parades didn’t stop because we beat the demons, Ichiro. They stopped because they were plannin’. They were waitin’ for this to happen. We been at war so long, when our enemies disappeared, we made new ones of our brothers and sisters. A Night Parade is coming!”

Kukai looked his brother in the eyes. The righteous fury of his words and beliefs were etched into every line and pore in his face. His words dripped with them. His eyes were aflame with a burning flame. He could deny the truth no longer. “You understand what you’re saying, Jiro?”

Benkei’s let his brother go and turned away. Kukai could see that his fists were clenched. His knuckles white. He watched his brother dig his nails into his palm; something he only caught when a small drip of crimson dribbled forth from his brother’s clenched fists.

The massive monk did not turn around when he responded. “It means we spent the last four hundred years asleep, and we’re about ta get a rude awakenin’.”

The Primal Vow was a two-way street. The path between the worlds was long and winding, and as the Physical Realm drew further from the Spirit Realm, it would grow ever longer with every year. The spirits and kami that inhabited the realms found it harder to cross over, except in specific times or conditions. So, upholding the Primal Vow had become a shared responsibility. The people of Yamato had to find and raise those of divine lineage to become the new Kamigakari and prepare them for their heavenly duty. They had to train warrior monks and a warrior class to be able to fight alongside the chosen champions and stem the demon tides. They had to read the signs.

The Primal Vow required constant vigilance. But Yamato had not been vigilant.

The kami didn’t fail us, Kukai thought to himself, we failed them.